The Girl of the Unknown
by silverstar1011
Summary: There's a new girl in Privet Drive and Harry falls for her. But is she really what she seems? Set after OotP. Please R&R and ignore the bad title!
1. Losing Grip

A/N- This is my first Fan fic ever so please be nice an review for me. I promise the next chapter will be a bit more interesting... that's if you want me to update! Thanks to my beta Kelly for checking this over and the idea for the title!

Chapter One- Losing Grip

To any outsider, the residence of Number Four Privet Drive seemed like any other- a mother, a father and a son living in a posh house in a quite exclusive area of Surrey, with a beautiful garden kept neat and tidy by the tall, skinny woman of the family, who had rather a large amount of neck.

But in this nice, normal household, there lived another. The Boy Who Lived.

Harry Potter stared at his bedroom ceiling. The summer holidays were here, but he didn't feel much like doing anything. All he could think about was Sirius. Sirius was invading his dreams, his spare moments, every second of every day, a man, a picture of a man, with shaggy black hair and tattered robes filled his head. His godfather. His recently deceased godfather. What he would give for a chance to relive those moments, when they were under attack, and Sirius (plus others) came to his rescue, he could warn Sirius about the veil. The veil of no return.

All of a sudden, he was there again. A jet of green light narrowly missed his head, and when he looked up, Sirius was gone.

"Boy!" A man's sharp yell brought him out of his dreams. Harry ignored the tears forming in his eyes and answered.

"What?"

"Breakfast's ready."

"I'm not hungry." Not that he would be fed much anyway. The man (his uncle), his wife and their son did not approve of Harry, or his kind.

You see, Harry Potter was different. He wasn't normal. He was a wizard. He was The Boy Who Lived.

Harry rolled over onto his side. His aunt and uncle, the dreadful Dursley family, would not care why he hadn't ate one single meal with them since he came back from his magical boarding school, Hogwarts.

Suddenly, he heard a tapping noise coming from the window.

He looked over and felt a rush of excitement, yet sadness at the same time.

Zooming wildly in all directions by his window was the minute owl Pigwidgeon that belonged to his best friend Ron. Wizards and witches used owls to send letters to one another, and this was the first contact he had received from the wizarding world since the holidays began.

He opened the window and let Pig in, locking him in his own owl Hedwig's cage so he didn't cause too much mayhem. Thankfully Hedwig was out flying- she didn't think much of Pigwidgeon. Pig stuck out his leg, and Harry took the rolled up letter that was tied to it through the bars to read.

Harry had always felt at home at Hogwarts, among other members of the wizarding community. Yet now, now after the loss of Sirius, he didn't feel part of it, like he did not belong. The powerful wizards of the Ministry, they had failed him, failed Sirius...

Sirius himself had been more than a godfather to Harry. After his own parents died when he was only one year old, murdered by the darkest wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort (Harry managed to survive his killing curse, leaving him with a lightning shaped scar and the nickname, 'The Boy Who Lived'), when he met Sirius at the end of his third year it was like a dream come true. Sirius had been his dad's best friend, so having him in his life was like having a link to his parents too. And now he was gone. Leaving Harry alone in the Muggle world with no-one to turn to but the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia would easily surrender Harry to Voldemort's supporters to save her precious kitchen surfaces from being charred! And to top it all off, Lord Voldemort was back, as powerful as ever before, with an even larger group of Death Eaters than before, and his main target was the one who survived his attack, stripped him of his powers and reduced him to something non-human- Harry Potter.

Harry sighed and unrolled the parchment in his hand. It read-

Hi Harry! How are you? I suppose you'll want out of that Muggle place, eh? Mum says we can come and get you soon, but we're a bit busy now, what with You-Know-Who and everything. And Happy Birthday! You can get your present when you come to stay.

See you later, Ron.

Harry was furious. Ron's family were too busy dealing with the dark wizard who killed his parents, his one true enemy, who he had faced four times, wanted Harry dead to fulfil a prophecy's return that they couldn't find time to pick him up from this hellhole and take him to a place where he could take his mind off Sirius and have a bit of company? Plus there wasn't one single word asking how he was after he had just lost his godfather. Some people could be so insensitive.

Harry scrumpled up Ron's letter and ripped it into pieces, showering his carpet with parchment, much to the horror of Pigwidgeon.

He ran out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and made it through the front door, ignoring the shouts of, "You boy, come back here at once!" coming from the kitchen.

There would be hell to pay when he got back home, he knew it, but he just needed to be outside, away from Privet Drive. His feet led him where he wanted to go, his mind lost deep in thought once again about Voldemort and Sirius.

The heat of the summer day finally hit him as he entered the unshaded area of the local play park. Harry positioned himself on a swing and rocked backwards and forwards. Hours passes. Harry watched family after family, with screaming babies and squabbling toddlers, all enter the park, basking in the glory of the English summer sun. He watched friends, pre-teen giggling girls, boisterous young boys and teenagers, like himself, in couples, some going into the bushes for a quick kiss. And yet he never moved from that swing.

At around seven o' clock, the sun began to go down and it grew colder. All the squealing children and hassled parents left, followed closely by the remaining group of teenagers.

The park was completely empty and Harry was alone again.

Then, a beautiful girl of around sixteen, the age he would turn the next day, appeared at the entrance of the park. It was odd, as she was completely by herself.

She made her way across the park, her gorgeous dark hair tossed over her shoulders by the cool breeze, and sat in the swing next to Harry.

There was silence for a few moments before the girl said, "Hi, I'm Miranda," and stuck out her hand to shake Harry's.


	2. Dudley's Comeuppance

**Disclaimer- Everything you recognise, I do not own. Everything that you do not recognise is mine! (Sorry, forgot disclaimer in chapter one!)**

_**Chapter Two- Dudley's Comeuppance**_

Harry shook the girl's hand, trying to supress a grin that was forcing itself onto his face because this girl was actually talking to him!

"I'm Harry," he told her.

"I-," the girl began, but then stopped as if she had changed her mind. "Nice name," she said.

Harry let the grin take over. He had never met anyone his own age while he stayed with the Dursleys, well except his cousin Dudley, but since Dudley took to beating him up or saying snide comments -when he wasn't afraid for his life-, Harry was sure that wasn't a good thing.

Harry sighed. The only reason the Dursleys were actually afraid of him was because he had a mass-murderer for a godfather -Harry forgot to mention that Sirius was actually innocent-, so now he was left to the full wrath of the Dursleys without them fearing that Sirius would turn up at their doorstep and turn them into squids or something. Not that he had told them that Sirius was...tears welled up in his eyes and his throat caught...gone... but they would find out sooner or later- they always did.

"Harry!"

"What!" he asked, his hand impulsively reaching into his back pocket for his wand. "Oh. Right."

The beautiful Miranda -who was now swinging extremely high on her swing- had been calling Harry for the past minute or so, but he had been too lost in thoughts to hear her. He hoped she hadn't seen his wand, or that he'd not broken any secrecy issues.

"They seem to know you," said Miranda, pointing to some boys defacing the slide. It was Dudley and his gang aka the local bullies.

Dudley swaggered over to Harry and Miranda.

"I wouldn't talk to him if I were you," said Dudley. "He's not normal.

Miranda eyed him up and down, her swing coming to a halt.

"You're not so normal yourself," she retorted.

"What? Why?"

"You're about as large as a baby what. That, my dear, is most definitely not normal."

Harry spluttered with laughter. Dudley turned on him.

"Wait till Mum and Dad find out you've been talking to people," he said, "and poisoning their minds against me."

"Are you related?" asked an astonished Miranda, clearly amazed at the thought that someone as huge as Dudley could be related to someone as thin and malnourished looking as Harry.

"Cousins," said Harry dully.

"So where're you from anyway?" asked Dudley. "You don't sound like you're from round here."

"Well done genius," snapped Miranda. The dislike for Dudley was rich in her tone, but Dudley didn't hear it.

"Well, where!" asked Dudley, his eyes focused at the top of Miranda's shirt.

Miranda sighed exasperatedly.

"Does he not get the hint?" she muttered to Harry, who bit his lip to keep him from laughing.

The pretty girl turned her head to Dudley. "I'm from Pennsylvania. In America."

"Cool," replied Dudley. "For a holiday? Or did you move here? What street you on?"

Miranda thought for a bit. "We haven't moved yet. This is more of a," she paused, "trial run."

"Oh."

Dudley's mate Piers sensed that Miranda didn't want them around. Even as the smartest in the group, he still wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Big D, let's go," he said. "I'm bored."

"Yeah, in a minute," he replied, waving him off with his hand. Harry couldn't help noticing that Dudley's fat sunburnt arm resembled something rather like a leg of uncooked red meat.

Dudley's friends nervously backed away from their leader for a second before noticing to boys of about twelve that had just entered the park.

"Piers," said one of the gang, a very spotty ginger boy with glasses as thick as those cauldron bottoms Percy Weasley used to always go on about. "Colin Harrison's just came in. Want to go hold him down for Dudley till he's done here?"

"Sure," replied Piers with a wicked grin on his face. The gang members followed him as he went to torment the poor boy.

"That's not very nice," said an outreged Miranda, though Harry could see a sly smile appearing on her face. It rather reminded him of the smirk of Draco Malfoy, a horrible boy in his year. "He's only half your height." She smirked mischieviously before adding, "and about a tenth of your weight."

Dudley scowled. If Miranda had been a boy, oh, she'd (he'd) have been for it. But he didn't want to lose the chance to get off with, or even be seen with such a stunning girl.

"He bad-mouthed me," explained Dudley. "Swore at me. That's what I call 'not very nice'."

"Do you think he maybe swore at you because you beat up other innocent pre-teens for the fun of it?" The smirk had vanished from her face.

"Whatever," muttered Dudley.

Harry stood up making to go home, but Miranda followed. No sooner had she stood up that Dudley slapped a great porky hand onto her bottom.

Miranda screamed and a loud noise filled the air as she slapped him across the face with all her might. For her slim, petite figure, she was surprisingly strong.

Harry couldn't hold it in any longer- he laughed so loudly that Piers' concentration was mucked up and the little boy, Colin Harrison wriggled free. He and his friend ran out of the park as quickly as their legs would take them.

Dudley stumbled backwards, stunned that someone had actually rejected his advatages! Everyone else in the estate knew that Dudley had only had girlfriends in the past because they were afraid of him, yet he didn't seem to realise it.

"I'm outta here," stated Miranda, dragging Harry by the collar with her.

When they reached the street outside, she brushed back his messy fringe with her hand, which revealed Harry's lightening shaped scar.

"Same time tomorrow?" she whispered sexily in his ear, and Harry felt his legs weaken.

Miranda traced the scar with her finger.

"It's cute," she commented.

"Uhm, thanks. I think. I got it from a, er, car crash when I was a baby."

"Yeah," she said monotonously, talking to his scar rather than Harry himself. "Of course. A car crash."


	3. Mystery Girl

_**A/N- I have decided to change the title for this story because I found another 7 stories called Sleeping With the Enemy, and one Sleeping With the Enemies. Danke once again to my beta Kelly. ) Sorry this chapter is so long, I didn't know where I was going with it when I started to write it. And one more thing- I need reviewers!**_

_**Disclaimer- I do not own anything you recognise, it is all JK Rowling's. Anything you don't already recognise (eg Miranda) are MINE ALL MINE!**_

_**Chapter Three- Mystery Girl**_

_Harry arrived back home long before Dudley. He was shattered but Uncle Vernon made him sit through a long, bellowed speech about why Harry shouldn't just leave unannounced like he had today (only Uncle Vernon swore a lot more in his version) because Heaven knows what could have happened. Harry knew that his uncle was not being kind and looking out for his wellbeing, but more that he wanted him to stay indoors and suffer, but also in case he performed any magic and people saw him. If people saw what a 'freak' Harry actually was (in Uncle Vernon's opinion), then the Dursleys themselves would be associated with the weirdness of it all. Uncle Vernon didn't want anything to tarnish his reputation as the most average family on the street._

_Harry nearly yelled with triumph when his Uncle ordered him to go to bed. He quickly changed into his night clothes, his mind racing. It was not filled up, as it had been all summer of grief for Sirius, but excitement over this girl. Miranda._

_Harry felt his heart skip a beat when he mentioned her name. Miranda. Shivers went down his spine. It was such a beautiful name, so exotic and unusual. It suited the person perfectly._

_It was at that moment that Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, arrived back home with a dead mouse in her beak. When Harry let her in, she swooped over to her cage looking for some rest and relaxation, not to mention some water, but what she actually found was... Pigwidgeon! In her cage! Drinking her water and eating her Owl Treats!_

_That was when Harry remembered- Ron had written to him. He scribbled a note that he was okay but missing Sirius dreadfully, he was sorry for the delay but he had been out -he didn't feel the need to mention he'd been very angry at him, or even the point to stay angry at him anymore, he was so happy-, and dropped in a word or two about the wonderous Miranda. _

_Harry had never felt this way about another girl before, not even Cho Chang, not that he told Ron that. This was the kind of information that Harry liked to keep to himself._

_Harry rolled the letter up and sent Pigwidgeon on his way, much to the delight of a rather more cheerful Hedwig who was pleased to have her cage back. She nipped his finger ever so slightly to thank him before hopping into her cage._

_While the owl settled herself, Harry took off his glasses, placed them by his bedroom table and switched off his lamp. He couldn't stop thinking about the night's events... Miranda in particular. Who was she? Would she be living near here? How old was she? How many times could he see her? The answer to the last question, Harry hoped, was lots! Lots and lots and lots._

_As he closed his eyes, there was a small part of him that felt slightly bad that he wasn't thinking as much about Sirius as he had been in the previous few weeks, but he knew that Sirius would have been happy for him to meet Miranda, have wanted him to move on... _

_As soon as the scuffling and rustling from Hedwig's direction ceased and silence took over, Harry allowed himself to be lured almost instantly into a deep sleep, in which he dreamed that Miranda came to the Dursleys' house in the Weasleys' old flying Ford Anglia. She flew the car to the summit of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain, parked on the top, looked into his eyes and kissed him. Then, when she pulled away, from his lips, she turned into Buckbeak the hippogriff, but with Sirius' head, and Harry watched as his/ her -he didn't know whether it was actually Sirius or Miranda- soul left its body and floated up to Heaven. _

_Harry jolted awake. He just had to find out more about that girl. _

_There was a smell of frying bacon in the house, though he knew he wouldn't get to eat it. He, Dudley and Petunia were following Dudley's diet of fruits, salads and anything else considered healthy. Uncle Vernon, however, was the exception to the rule. While Dudley was having lie-ins all during the summer holidays, Aunt Petunia was cooking all sorts of foods, such as cakes, bacon rolls and fry-ups for her husband to eat in the morning and take to work for lunch. It was sneaky, underhand and deceitful, in fact Harry could probably expect something along the lines of it from the likes of Draco Malfoy, or even himself! _

_He glanced out of the window. It was the same as yesterday- the sun was shining, there were no clouds in sight, and already some of the residents of Privet Drive were out in their front gardens, the women wearing bikini tops and rolled up shorts, the men were topless, and the kids, in their holiday clothes running around a lawn with water pistols. Harry threw some oversized shorts -they, like every item in his wardrobe, used to belong to Dudley- on, and a very baggy t-shirt, shoved his glasses on and made his way downstairs._

_Aunt Petunia was scrubbing the frying pan and the kitchen smelt distinctly of lavender air freshener. Uncle Vernon was reading the morning paper at the table._

_When Aunt Petunia heard footsteps, she turned round, dropping the cloth into the sink with a loud plop._

_"Oh," she gasped sounding relieved. "It's only you." And she went back to the washing up. Uncle Vernon grunted in acknowledgement without even looking up from his paper._

_"Have some melon," said Aunt Petunia. "There's a bowl for you over there." She indicated the worktops with her hand that had the cloth in it, soaking Uncle Vernon's newspaper and Harry with soapy water while she did so. _

_Harry went over to the worksurface where two bowls were lying out. One had about the smallest slice Aunt Pentunia could have cut on it, and the other, about three-quarters of a full melon. Harry's stomach grumbled and he realised just how hungry he was. He had hardly ate anything since he lost Sirius, and now all his hunger was catching up on him. _

_"The other one's yours, Boy," growled Uncle Vernon as Harry took his seat at the table. Harry had chosen the the large portion, even though it had obviously been left for Dudley. He was feeling rather good for a change, all down to the mysterious Miranda, so decided to have a little fun with the Dursleys, play with their heads a little. His hunger was taking over him, telling him to do things he wouldn't normally do._

_"I've decided that this is mine," said Harry, "as I'm really hungry."_

_Uncle Vernon's face slowly but surely turned scarlet. "That is Dudley's you ungrateful little-"_

_He was suddenly cut off by a loud scream from Aunt Petunia because Harry was pointing his wand at her. He wouldn't use it against her in a million years, but the Dursleys didn't know that._

_"Put it away!" hissed Uncle Vernon. "One of the neighbours might see it. But anyway," he added smugley, "you're not allowed to use that thing yet. It's breaking your rules."_

_"How do you know the rules haven't changed?" asked Harry._

_Uncle Vernon looked at his terrified wife who glared back at him, her eyes wide like dinnder plates._

_"Do something, Vernon," she pleaded. _

_"Oh all right," he muttered. "What do you want, Harry? Just don't hurt her."_

_"All I want's the melon," he stated simply._

_"Fine. Eat it." Uncle Vernon had caved in and Harry lowered his wand._

_He ate in silence. Once he had finished, he took his bowl to the sink and proceeded to wash it. After all, he had just threatened his aunt with magic, the least he could do was wash up after himself._

_"Thanks Aunt Petunia," he said. "That was delicious." And he left his aunt and uncle sitting at the table in astonishment._

_Harry checked his watch as he made his way through the Dursley's front garden. It was nearly eleven o' clock, which meant that he had ages to wait before seeing Miranda, but he was pleased just to be out of the house and in the heat._

_Harry let his mind wander as his feet led him through Magnolia Cresent. The warmth of the sun hit the back of his neck as he walked. What he would have given for a Muggle ice lolly to cool him down..._

_Some little kids, no older than eight, cycled past him so suddenly that he had to jump in front of a parked car to avoid them. There was a tinkling noise as several silver coins fell out of a blurred blob's pocket as he whizzed by. It was money._

_"Hey, kids!" Harry yelled after them, but it was no use- they were too far away. Harry watched as they sped down the street and round the corner. He glanced at the coins on the ground. Maybe he would treat himself to that ice lolly..._

_The trip to the newsagents was quite a trek for Harry. He hadn't been in it for over five years, and even before then he'd not been in it often. The journey should have taken him around five minutes, but Harry managed to lose his way three times, nearly got run over and tripped over a yapping miniature poodle that had got its lead tangled in his legs as it ran away from its owner. He eventually arrived at the little shop around forty-five minutes later, looking worse for wear with a rip in his t-shirt from some family's hedge and a graze on his knee to go with his scar._

_Air conditioning, Harry thought, is the best thing Muggles ever invented. _

_He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as he made his way through the shop to the freezer._

_The shop was quite small and extremely cramped as it was very busy. Harry counted out the change the boy had dropped. He had one pound twenty-five to spend, so he could practically have any lolly he wanted. There was hardly anything left, but he saw a cheap lemon lolly that he quite liked, so fished it out and joined the queue of five or so people. Harry looked around. At the front of the queue, talking to one of the shopkeepers, was a man and -who Harry figured was- his daughter. Harry must have stared at him a little too long because the man turned round with the feeling that someone was watching him. _

_The man himself had long-ish black hair, rather like Harry's least favourite teacher, Professor Severus Snape's, except much less greasy. It was parted neatly and the man wore a smart black outfit, despite the heat of the day._

_He glanced around the store, his eyes resting on everything (including Harry, who had now looked away) for no longer than a millisecond, but when he turned back, he did the most peculiar thing._

_The man muttered something to his daughter, indicating something in he shop with his hand. Without saying another word, she simply handed him the black denim jacket she was carrying for him and he put it on! Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. _

_The shopkeeper told him the total for the items, and then laughed as the man took out a handful of change for his daughter to count out._

_"Forgive us," Harry heard him say jokingly, in a distinct American accent, "we're foreign."_

_The shopkeeper chuckled as they picked up their bag and made for the exit._

_When the man passed him, his jacket brushed against Harry's arm, so Harry looked up to find that the girl following him was-_

_"Miranda!" he exclaimed._

_"Harry," she stated, somewhat unsurprised._

_"Who's your friend, Miranda," drawled the man with the jacket. Harry couldn't help noticing he had a rather smug voice._

_"Harry, this is my father. Dad, meet Harry."_

_"So, Harry. We finally meet," said Miranda's father, shaking his hand._

_"Finally?" asked a bemused Harry._

_Miranda laughed. "Let's just say my dad's heard a lot about you."_

_Harry felt his cheeks reddening._

_"Here," said Miranda. "We'll wait with you."_

_"Cool," replied Harry._

_Her dad checked his watch. "I'm sorry darling, I don't think I can. Urgent business," he told her. "You stay. I'll come and get you again. Same time, same place." He turned to Harry, his eyes fixated on his scar. "Goodbye, Harry."_

_"Bye Daddy!" called Miranda._

_"Bye, Mr-" Harry froze. What was Miranda's surname? What shuold he call her father? He improvised by saying, "Bye, Sir."_

_Miranda laughed even harder._

_"You just called my father 'Sir'," she gasped. "That's so cute!"_

_Harry blushed even more._

_He bought the lolly and they went outside, Harry eating quickly so it didn't melt anymore than it already had in the shop._

_They walked in the direction of the nearest town, talking excitedly. No matter how many things he wanted to ask her- her surname, her hobbies, if she was single- Harry found himself doing all the talking. _

_It couldn't have been more than five minutes later when a loud crack filled the air. Harry recognised it instantly as the sound of someone Apparating, or disappearing in one place and reappearing somewhere else almost instantly. _

_He panicked and started looking around. Was his headteacher, Dumbledore, having him followed like he had last summer? Or worse, were Voldemort's Death Eaters tailing him, just waiting to pounce? These questions raced through his mind as he looked in all directions of Glassford Avenue. _

_"Is something wrong?" asked Miranda, a wave of concern washing over her face._

_"Uhm," began Harry anxiously, "no. It's just... nothing. It's fine."_

_"Well if you're sure..."_

_Harry was on lookout for the rest of the day. He saw no-one he recognised from the Order; no Tonks, no Lupin, no Mundungus. He also saw no-one that he knew was a Death Eater- Lestrange, Malfoy, Avery. Then again, would Death Eaters be foolish enough to show themselves to the person they were going to kill?_

_By the end of the day, Harry still hadn't seen anything from the magical world. In fact, six days later, having spent all his time outside with Miranda and passing the place he was so sure someone had Apparated from many-a-time and seeing nothing, he was starting to worry that he had imagined it, or that it was a just a perfectly normal Muggle sound. He wondered whether he had been so desperate to hear from his world that he turned a Muggle sound into a magical spell. _

_Another thing he realised was that even though he was spending all his time with Miranda, he knew no more about her than he did on the night he met her. He had explained all about himself (skimming over the magical parts), while she had done all the listening._

_Only one thing was clear in Harry's mind when he went to bed that night- he had to find out more about her._


End file.
